


Masochism

by orphan_account



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Decisions, F/F, Multi, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mas•och•ism(noun)The tendency to derive pleasure from one's own pain or humiliation
Relationships: Allison Cameron/Remy "Thirteen" Hadley
Kudos: 15





	Masochism

**Author's Note:**

> Established Cadley but the first bits are Remy's memories. Trigger warning and all that.

Glossy lips meet yours as you’re pushed backwards onto a dorm room bed. You look up at the girl you came back here with and then over to her friend who had driven the two of you from the bar. He must realize that this is his cue to leave. Then it dawns on you- they _had_ been acting a little too friendly towards each other all night. _You naive idiot_ , you think.

Time seems to be moving in stop motion as you consider your options. You could try to head back to your building, but you don’t suspect you’d make it far with your head spinning from the drugs and alcohol. Suddenly, there’s a hand on your cheek and two on your hips, and you nod slightly before your jeans’ zipper is pulled down by one of them. _You twisted slut_. He pushes himself into you.

Minutes later, release comes. You can feel the thump of your heartbeat in your temples. You let out a deep breath as your pulse begins to slow. Coming down from the high, an overwhelming sense of shame takes over.

**********

You search your bathroom cupboard for the little blue box of blades, coming up empty. You must have thrown them away after the last time. Changing your plan, you grab a new plastic razor from a drugstore bag and, using teeth and scissors, pull it apart to free a blade.

You sink to the cold floor and hold the blade to your thigh, picking a spot high enough that it won’t force you to dress more carefully than you already do. White scars further down taunt you with the words they spell out. _Crazy dumb bitch_ , they shout.

You drag the blade across your skin quickly, seeing white tissue for a moment before the blood starts to pool. You hold a cloth to the cut for a few moments, leaning your head back against the hard wall. You briefly wonder if the universe will forgive you for all your mistakes if you punish yourself enough, but you’re not sure that this counts as a punishment. You like it too much.

Pulling the cloth away, you see that the bleeding has stopped, much too fast. You’re disgusting, a mess, a crazy person, and you can’t even do that right. Picking the blade up from the ground beside you, you bring it to your skin again, this time with the intention of causing real damage.

Endorphins rush to your brain. You feel content for a blissful moment, until you don’t anymore. You kick yourself for not remembering that it’s never worth it.

**********

Articles of clothing disappear in a race for power, neither of you wanting to take your lips off of each other for long enough to focus on their removal. Her victory becomes clear when she has you laid out completely exposed, with herself still covered by the silk pyjama shorts she knows make you weak for her. She holds your wrists down on the bed as you squirm underneath her.

She devours your skin slowly and deliberately, making her way up your inner thigh and stopping right before the place she knows you need her. Her mouth jumps to your breast, where her swirling tongue elicits a moan.

Landing at the base of your neck, she bites down. You tense against the pain as her teeth dig into soft skin. There are drops of red blood on her lips as she pulls away.

The next evening, you sit in silence in the passenger seat as she drives home from work. At the apartment, you pull off your jeans and itchy turtleneck, replacing them with an old tee, before climbing into the bed you share. You face away from her.

“What’s wrong, babe?” She asks.

“It’s nothing.”

“You’ve barely talked to me all day.”

You take a deep breath.

“That thing you did yesterday. It made me feel…” you trail off.

“The biting?” she asks, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. “I thought you liked it. Have I been hurting you this whole time?”

“No Allie. Not at all. I just- it changed, okay?”

“Do you still trust me?”

You roll over and look her in her perfect blue-green eyes. You would always trust those eyes.

“More than anyone.”

She kisses you softly and you melt into it like it’s the only thing in the world you’ll ever need, the only thing that can save you. When she pulls away, it’s to look you in the face again.

“I’m glad you told me” she whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

When she pushes you over the edge that night, you don’t feel any shame. Just contentment and a safe, supported place to land.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I was working towards a thesis with this but I didn't quite get there.
> 
> I'm sorry for all the angst. Please yell at me for my writing style but not how screwed up this is- there's way too much of myself in here.


End file.
